Conspiracy of Friends
by Lady Fellshot
Summary: A story of beginnings with Zaknafein and Jarlaxle. A series of shorts depicting pivotal moments in their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: RAS and WotC may not have these characters back unless they promise to take better care of them and the rest of the Realms.

* * *

Zaknafein watched his quarry leave the seedy tavern from his rooftop perch and turn down the Braeryn street. This particular group of hobgoblins had been bothering one of his best informants, a server at an Eastmyr inn catering primarily to merchants. One of the brownish goblinoid mercenaries had beaten the skinny human bus boy senseless.

The young dark elf had heard of the incursion into his network of eyes and ears and decided to ensure that the brutes did not get a chance to jab deeper. At least, Zak tried to tell himself that. Deep down and locked away, he knew it was vengeance for the kid and outrage that someone dared hurt one of _his_ people. The hobgoblins on the street below were about to pay the penalty.

Zak scanned the street for any who might object to his ambush. A fairly well dressed drow male stalked down the street ahead of the youth's targets. _He's unlikely to be a problem there_, Zak smirked mirthlessly, _More likely he'll thank me for the entertainment._

He stood up and checked his weapons. Both of his plain steel longwords were carefully honed and kept meticulously clean, despite the worn state everything else Zak wore. His shirt and breeches were now a dusty grey with threadbare patches and he would have to find a new leather vest to use as armor fairly soon. His current one was growing both too thin in the material and too small through the shoulders. Only his boots were in relatively good repair. He had been growing out of them too quickly to wear them out. A recent layer of dust completed his outfit. In short, he looked like any other street tough from the slums. In some ways he was. In others, he was not. _All that skulking about the Clawrift had better pay off_, Zak thought grumpily as he absently brushed some of the grit off his knees.

The four hobgoblins came closer to the drow youth's perch, oblivious to his presence and muttering amongst themselves in low voices. They stepped with exaggerated care and the occasional slurred word could be heard in their coarse language, giving away their state of drunkenness. Their maces and clubs sat askew. The mismatched bits of armor they wore still looked sound though. Speed and surprise would be the dark elf's best weapons. _No warnings for you_, Zak thought, his initial outrage rekindling as he silently slipped his swords from their scabbards, _Since you all seem to like four on one odds, let's see how you like this..._

Zaknafein jumped off the one story hovel and landed on one of the goblinoids. The stale smelling hobgoblin's collarbones broke with an audible crack as the drow's soft boots came down on them. Zak let his legs collapse and absorb the impact as his impromptu cushion went down howling obscenities in Goblin.

The dark elf rolled off his incapacitated victim to land in a crouch with his blades at the ready. Zak slashed hard across the knees of the hobgoblin to his right, where the undercreature's greaves ended. On the left, Zak slashed up at a diagonal, deeply scratching the top of the third hobgoblin's thigh before carrying through to the undercreature's triceps. As the two startled goblinoids tried to reach for their weapons, the drow youth stood up with both arms crossed and slashed out wide at throat level. Both hobgoblins collapsed in sprays of blood with their jugulars sliced.

The last hobgoblin, showing more sense and better reflexes than his fallen fellows, turned and ran. Zak let him go and instead turned his attention to the hobgoblin he had landed on at the start of the fracas. The undercreature tried to pick himself up without the use of his arms, got to a sitting position and gave a terrified look in Zak's direction. Before the dark elf got to enjoy the goblinoid's fear, the wounded hobgoblin suddenly slumped forward with a dagger embedded in his neck.

Zak followed the line of the line of the knife's hilt to spot the interloper, the slumming well-to-do drow. The stranger walked forward to retrieve his knife and Zak backed away from the corpses, eying the other elf warily. The stranger put his hands on his hips and surveyed Zak's handiwork with a critical eye. "Where did you learn blade work, kid?" he asked, curious.

The youth suppressed the snide remark that came to mind and shrugged instead. Now would be a lousy time for his voice to start cracking as it was wont to do as of late. It would also be totally idiotic to admit out loud on a public street that his mother had taught him the basics of sword dancing before the priestesses had found her. "I'll bet you know what's what around here," the stranger continued in a cajoling tone, "Interested in a job?"

Zak shrugged again and started to cast about for an escape. High born drow, in his limited experience, were always trouble. There was an alley a few paces behind him. He had dismissed it earlier as too obvious a place for an ambush, but it would do for a swift retreat. A swath of darkness dropped where he now stood would further cover his escape and Zak would be fairly assured of making it to the cluttered alley and losing the noble in the back roads of the Stenchstreets.

Feeling a little more secure in his immediate well being with a way out at his back, Zak studied the other elf. An adult, the stranger stood a bit taller than Zak and carried himself with an assurance that no one here would dare harm him. His clothes had the saturated red and blue dyes and good fit that hinted of money. The other elf's face had softer edges than Zak's, a quiet mark of an elf that always had regular meals. _Definitely higher up the social ladder_, Zak thought, _But not overtly hostile. There might be some possibilities there... _He kept his blades in hand but down and less threatening.

"Check with the Silken Draught and I'll consider your offer," the young drow called boldly back. Then Zak dropped a zone of inky blackness over himself and bolted for the alley, effectively disappearing into the crooked, sour smelling streets of the Braeryn. As Zak put distance between himself and the site of his ambush, the young bravo resolved to debate what kind of mischief he could get into with a noble as a resource.

* * *

Jarlaxle looked at the Silken Draught and considered his options with the place. The kid could be waiting inside wanting to make a deal. He could be lying in wait with confederates. Or the youth could just be redirecting the noble away. The tavern itself seemed to cater primarily to merchants, mostly those from the lesser races. The two story exterior was an uninteresting brown color and had no windows on the ground floor. Most of the clientèle going inside appeared to be members of lesser races although the occasional low born drow merchant would slip inside.

The displaced noble steeled himself for surprises and walked nonchalantly inside. The taproom's interior was un prepossessing to say the least. Spindly metal tables bolted to the floor, heavy stone and zurkhwood chairs and a bar counter seamed with scratches and divots attested witness to many fights. The mixed clientèle seemed mellow enough at the moment though.

Jarlaxle scanned the half empty tavern, but did not see the scruffy youth from the Braeryn. At a loss for what to do in the meantime, the noble drew up a seat at the bar and waved for an ale. _If nothing else_, he sighed inwardly, _I can see if they rent rooms for a turn of Narbondel_.

The barkeep turned out to be a half orc with jagged claw scars across his face. The undercreature deposited a heavy ceramic mug in front of the dark elf. In return, Jarlaxle laid a single silver piece on the bar counter. The coin was worth far in excess of the ale, but perhaps the information would be worth the expense. "Ever seen a half grown dark elf, a bit raggedy, come in here?" Jarlaxle asked conversationally, "Wears two swords?"

The half orc surreptitiously palmed the coin and said, "Sure, the kid comes in sometimes."

"Bad attitude?" the noble asked idly, toying absently with a lock of white hair.

"Nope. Quiet," The barkeeper looked at Jarlaxle speculatively a moment then continued, "I take that back. If he's here and it's quiet, then he's quiet. If any sort of scuffle breaks out, he gets mixed up in, takes it outside and then beats the participants senseless or worse."

Understanding started to percolate through Jarlaxle's mind, "He's your tavern guard then."

"Not formally," the half orc shrugged. "He doesn't show up quite that often."

As the bartender went to take care of another customer, Jarlaxle took stock of his personal situation. Two months ago, his mother had dragged him down to a basement alter to Lolth and tried to have him sacrificed. Why she had made the attempt after sending him to Melee Magathere and assigning him as Dantrag's assistant still remained a mystery to him. _I suppose she thought a trained warrior would be a better offering than a newborn baby_, the dark elf thought cynically. He had not even known that Matron was his birth mother until two months ago. He had been under the impression that he was one of the cousins.

Jarlaxle sipped at his ale and considered the day he had been expunged from Castle Baenre. Matron Baenre had called him out from the training salle where he had been mending practice armor and generally trying to stay out of the foul tempered Weaponmaster's sight. Dantrag did so enjoy finding the most tedious, difficult and smelliest chores for his second to do. Jarlaxle smiled a little bit, _At least I will never have to work under _him_ again_.

The Matron Mother had ordered Jarlaxle stripped and tied down to the altar. Her helpers had been none too gentle about it and he still felt a few aches from that beating. The ceremonial knife had descended and not punctured his skin. The confused priestesses in attendance tried to sacrifice Jarlaxle two more times before a great flash of power had knocked his sisters and mother unconscious and loosened his bonds enough for him to wriggle out of them.

It ran completely contrary to all Jarlaxle knew concerning Lolth and what happened to the luckless individual offered up to her, but he was not going to question his good fortune, not then and not now. He had run after getting free, noticed Matron Baenre recovering the the blast and run faster. Jarlaxle began to wonder, as he had more and more often, why he had not heard any whispers of pursuit from the first house

The dark elf could feel his irritation rising again and sipped at his ale. In his haste to flee the Baenre Castle, Jarlaxle had been forced to abandon his plans to become indispensable to Gomph Baenre, the archmage, and the lucrative betting ring he had rigged up among the more gullible common soldiers. Right now, his talent for games of chance was keeping Jarlaxle fed and housed. He took care to stay in a different inn every dark of Narbondel, just in case House Baenre had sent a very quiet, discreet team of hunters after him.

Jarlaxle sighed and looked around for the barkeeper, No sense in wasting time here if they don't rent rooms. He spied the half orc talking with a grey dwarf garbed like a caravan guard. Both kept casting speculative looks in Jarlaxle's direction. _Why are they..?_ the dark elf wondered, then put the pieces together. The half orc gave up information about the youth's habits with regards to fights far too easily. _I wonder how many other encounters the undercreature has rigged up this way_, he grinned inwardly as he waved the barkeeper over. "Do you rent rooms?" the dark elf asked nonchalantly.

The half orc grunted something that sounded affirmative and Jarlaxle arranged for six cycles accommodation._I really hope I don't have searchers after me,_ he thought uneasily, _And that kid better show up soon_.

* * *

Zak looked around the Silken Draught's main room for the high born drow from two cycles ago. The earth genasi linen maid had mentioned that the other drow had been busily charming his way into the pretty tiefling chambermaid's good graces and sleeping cot._ Idiot_, Zak mentally grumbled, _Whoever he's on the the run from will find him easily if he keeps that up. Ssrika's easy on the eyes but she never shuts up and doesn't care who hears it._

_On the other hand, she does get better food and her own room out of the deal_, he sighed mentally. Pnisse, the genasi, might have a a face that more closely resembled an unworked block of granite than anything else, but she was good at being both unobtrusive and observant. Zak occasionally found himself seriously debating taking the homely girl along as a lookout when he had to do second story thievery. Upon further reflection, he usually dismissed these notions. There was no way Pnisse could keep up with him if it came to fleeing, fighting or both at once and he hated the idea of leaving his people behind. _Push comes to shove, though, I probably would_, he thought uneasily, _At least I pay her in foodstuffs and sundries, things she can use or sell off easily_.

The high born drow had not arrived yet in the Draught's common room, from what Zak could see. Patient, Zak found an unpopulated table and waved a kobold server over. He ordered the house ale and pulled out a deck of worn playing cards. Pnisse mentioned yesterday that the noble gambled. The deck that Zak had liberated earlier would provide a cover in case whatever the noble ran from caught up with him while at the Draught. Not that the youth thought that it would stop anyone from trying to kill him too, but the cover excuse would keep his own network secret. Zak felt confidant that he could fight his way free if it came to that anyway. He dealt himself a hand of solitaire and settled in to wait.

The noble did not keep him waiting long. Dressed in a rumpled shirt of deep red and snug trousers and boots of black with white hair neatly tied back in a long tail, the high born drow looked like a fine jewel in a brass setting. Zak kept his attention nominally focused on the game in front of him, but surreptitiously took another glance around the tavern to see if anyone made some overt recognition of the other drow. No one did anything obvious and so the youth waited for the noble to spot him.

To Zak's surprise, the high born drow strode over to Zak's table, dropped into the chair opposite the young fighter and asked, "Do you know the game crutch?"

Zak nodded and asked conversationally, "So what brings a fine gent like you to a dive like this?" He took a glance at Odreener and found the half orc barkeeper eying them alertly. _Probably hoping that a fight breaks out_, Zak thought wryly, _It wouldn't be the first time that procurer's rigged one up hoping I'd fall into it. Too bad for him this time_.

"Well, I was fascinated by your brilliant hands from a few cycles ago and wonder where you learned to use them with such... deftness with your instruments," the noble winked suggestively at the youth.

"And I was wondering if my entertainment might have been enough to gain me a name." Striving to keep all of his laughter contained caused Zak's voice to crack a little on the last word. If the noble wanted to play the carouser, Zak could match him as long as he had some say over how far they got into their roles. If this proved to be unacceptable, then the bravo could always resort to something more bloody.

"It would, but not here," The noble made a show of appraising Zak up and down lasciviously.

Zak did his level best to look coy and not start cracking up. Whenever someone tried luring him into a bedroom with definite ulterior motives in mind he had a difficult time not chortling at the poor sod. It did not seem likely that the drow in front of him would try anything in a place that Zak had referred him to though. _He probably thinks that it's too likely that I know this place much better than he does and I may have some tricks hidden here._

"Shall we proceed to the second part of this audition then?" Zak smirked and tilted his head towards the staircase up to the rented rooms.

"Let's," The noble seemed a little relieved by how easily consensus was reached. Zak wondered why and motioned for the noble to lead the way up.

The hallway was as unremarkable and drab as the exterior of the Silken Draught. The noble led Zak up to the second room on the left and opened the door. The youth walked in past the small bed and leaned against the window frame folding his arms across his chest. The noble shut the door behind him and leaned on the door, allowing the most space possible between them. Zak looked at the other drow expectantly and asked bluntly, "Well, do I get a name or are you going to try something that may result in body parts missing later?"

"I am Jarlaxle," the noble answered a little uneasily, "And you are...?"

"Zaknafein," The youth supplied briskly, "Was there anything else you wished to discuss or should I leave you to Ssrika's charms?"

"Does everyone here know about her?" Jarlaxle huffed theatrically.

This time Zak did not bother to hide his amusement, "Yes and a more than a few who do not come around here frequently."

"All right, then," the noble said resignedly, "I need a safe place to stay and someone to show me what factions are where down here and how they interact with each other. You seem sharp."

The youth's eyebrows shot up. _I might be able to play this into a partnership_, he thought with a small spark of hope, _Mother's network really is too big for me to manage by myself_. Aloud he said, "I can get you a safe place and introduce you to a few people. What can you offer in return for my trouble?"

"Connections among the noble houses if you want," the noble shrugged. "I've seen your blade work. If you wanted to improve your station, I can think of a couple houses that are looking for good assassins."

"Not interested in those bastards," Zak snorted, "Unless it involves robbing them blind."

"Now there's something I can get behind," Jarlaxle chuckled back, "How about this: I'll give you lessons on how to act among nobles in order to blend in with them better. I'll bet a clever lad such as yourself could put the knowledge to good use when robbing them blind."

"Deal, as long as you don't try ordering me about in my territory," The young bravo grinned, "I actually managed to clear the kobolds out of my most recent acquisition. I hope you don't mind roughing it for a bit."

"Master Zaknafein, it will beat a priestess's attentions," Jarlaxle bowed and stood up, flipping his long white hair back into place as he did so. "I certainly hope any further association of ours will be as mutually beneficial. Lead the way, if you will."

Zak opened the window and gestured outside. He hoped that Jarlaxle meant what he said about not caring about how rough the accommodations were. The little abandoned guard outpost he had run across in the Clawrift last cycle still had the musty odor of the little lizard men lingering about it and he had just managed to transport a couple of amenities to the place. _I really hope the green slime in the latrine hasn't decided to start exploring_, the young drow thought as he followed Jarlaxle out the window.

* * *

Author's note: All right, I think I must be crazy for starting another long story when I have two already on the burner, but this particular plot bunny has been playing quietly in my head for a very long time. It was a nice sweet thing and a bit shy, then it grew shark teeth and started to gnaw on my rear. This seemed to be the best way to get it off of my behind. Anyway, I'm probably going to sort this into a series of smaller stories progressing through Zak's and Jarlaxle's lives.

I seemed to recall that somewhere it had been noted that Jarlaxle's age was somewhere around six centuries. I did a little back figuring and came to the realization that he could not have met Zak at Melee Magathere. If in the current Realms literature Jarlaxle is 600 and Zak was close to 400 when Drizzt was born, that would make Zak about a century Jarlaxle's junior. Besides I think that the Academy idea is a little overused, thus the current insanity of this fic.

Please let me know what you thought of the story, dear gentle reader.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine and this will likely pass into Alternate Universe oblivion in a few years, but oh well.

* * *

Zak sat at the bar of the Carafe in Narbondellyn and watched Jarlaxle work the card table. He grinned into his wine cup and kept an eye out for possible trouble. The other drow had a gift for card games and used it to genially fleece any and all who came to sit at his table.

When the noble had started teaching Zak the finer points of card sharping in Eastmyr, a few of the losers had taken offense to the "commoner boy" winning everything off them except for their shirts. The resulting scuffle had escalated into a full on tavern brawl when one of the objecting gamblers downed a potion and threw a chair and its surprised druegar occupant at Zak. The two drow had agreed that Jarlaxle would better swindle card tables in the future.

The drow youth watched the noble deal out another hand and took inventory of the other drow's opponents. Three prosperous merchants' sons who ought to know better and a blocky grey dwarf mercenary who could not seem to stop putting coins on the table. _Easy pickings_, Zak thought smugly. _We'll be eating well later_.

For excursions like this one, Jarlaxle and Zaknafein took the parts of cloak and dagger respectively. Zak's voice had finally sorted itself out into a baritone that grated when he became angry or stressed. It made intimidating his more problematic informants much easier. The youth's growth spurts had slowed too, enough so that he did not look as gangly as he did before._ It is nice not to have to look up at Jarlaxle to talk to him_, Zak admitted silently.

Jarlaxle on the other hand, clearly had a more inviting demeanor towards outsiders. The creatures the fallen noble dealt cards for always seemed more inclined to chatter around him, to the point that Zak found it useful to stay within earshot. Jarlaxle's non-threatening front meant that sometimes his fellow card players let slip interesting tidbits of information. Zak could not quite trust the noble to let him in on such things, nor was Zak sure that Jarlaxle realized which pieces of information were most useful to them.

_I need to get Pniess out of the Silken Draught. It's gotten worse as of late_, the drow bravo thought worriedly. _And I still need to follow up on that female asking around for Mithias._ This latest scrap of news might be the only warning he got that his mother's precautions surrounding his upbringing had failed and that Lolthites now hunted him. Zak sipped at his wine to hide his sour expression. _Not that I know enough to be that kind of threat, more's the pity._

The youth watched Jarlaxle deal out another hand and make soothing nonsensical small talk. One of the merchants took a gulp of wine from the cup at his elbow and said, "Hah! Onesh we sell the rugs to the Baenre, I'll buy thish place."

The displaced noble gave a vague smile and put a few coins in the pot. The drunk merchant's son put a lot more in and guzzled more wine. Jarlaxle glanced at his cards, then leaned back and scratched at his nose. The bravo suppressed a grin and looked around the tavern for any potential trouble. Fights most often broke out after Jarlaxle revealed a winning hand.

A sudden flurry of movement at the taphouse's front door caught Zaknafein's attention. The youth sipped at his wine to cover his wary look towards the other end of the bar, near the entrance. Four drow in the livery of some high ranking noble house swaggered in. Zak took one look at the burliest, most richly dressed of the quartet and pegged the male with two swords as the leader. _Why are they heading directly for Jarlaxle's table?_

Zak risked a glance at Jarlaxle, expecting the older drow to calmly and affably regard the nobles the way he did with everyone else. He nearly choked on his ale when he saw Jarlaxle's frozen, pale, scared expression and the nervous glances he kept casting towards the exits.

_He knows that noble_, Zak realized. The brawny noble in question proceeded to grill the luckless grey dwarf at Jarlaxle's card table about something or other. _Hells, if he's recognized... _the youth pushed aside the niggling suspicion that he would be outclassed in an open confrontation. _A distraction then. If Jarlaxle can't move quick enough to take advantage of it, then I'm going to need a new partner._

The impromptu interrogation ended with the druegar's throat opened and blood spraying out over the card table. The nobles turned and sauntered out, pausing to spit derisively at the occupants of the taproom. The entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief as they left. Zak chatted with the barkeep over the prevailing price of blown glass flutes, a signal that Jarlaxle should pack up and meet back at the Clawrift.

The bravo watched the color return to Jarlaxle's face as he formulated the questions he needed answered.

* * *

Relief and worry warred for dominance in Jarlaxle's mind. Relief for coming through the unexpected encounter with Dantrag in one piece currently held the upper hand. _But Zaknafein saw the whole thing... and he's too sharp not to have uncomfortable questions for me..._

As usual, the pair had taken different routes back to their little lair in the Clawrift. Jarlaxle listened hard for the sounds of occupation._ I guess I got here before him..._Jarlaxle plopped himself down on the sagging dust colored couch that the youth had scrounged from somewhere. The couch gave its customary belch of old fusty sawdust as Jarlaxle surveyed the little cavern rooms he called home with Zak.

_Actually, it isn't that different from my room off the salle_, he reflected. The sparse furniture all had a worn look to it and most of it they had had to patch themselves, including the cushions on the floor where they took reverie. The big prize of the rough place was a small charred bookshelf with a few atlases of the Underdark on it, also smelling faintly of smoke. _Better company though._

Zaknafein slipped in and maintained a careful distance from Jarlaxle while staying close to the sturdy zurhkwood door. After a moment, the youth asked briskly, "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

The noble shrugged and stared at the clean swept stone floor. "I'm not sure what happened," he muttered softly.

"You can start with where you knew that big galoot from," Zak's deep voice cut in mildly.

Jarlaxle looked up and found the tall slender youth studying him neutrally. The noble opened his mouth and to his surprise a chuckle popped out. "I would pay you a dragon's hoard if you went and said that to Dantrag Baenre's face."

The bravo's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."

Jarlaxle shook his head and kept snickering. Zak frowned and shifted uneasily. "That would make you one of the Baenre as well."

The noble shrugged again, "Only if they know I'm a part of the house. Otherwise I'm just a drifter."

Zak studied Jarlaxle for a long moment. The silence stretched and the noble began to grow uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He looked around at the little home the two of then had built and said quietly, "I don't want to go back."

The youth nodded slightly and replied in an equally soft voice, "No one molests my people."

Jarlaxle felt a knot of tension in his middle untie. Prolonged association with the low-born drow had illustrated for the noble that Zaknafein took threats and acts against his network of informants very seriously. Usually the offending party paid with their livelihood or more rarely, in large quantities of blood. The policy resulted in a very quiet, very loyal web of associates. _For a boy, he sure is good at information brokering among the trading clans_.

He looked up and saw Zak slipping out the door. "Where are you off to?"

"I need to get one of my people out of a hot spot," the youth shrugged slightly. "I'm thinking of shifting her out of Menzoberranzan. We could use some information sources from elsewhere that aren't second or third hand."

Jarlaxle nodded. _Actually... that does have some possibilities._ "Where are you sending her to?"

"I'll decide when I get there," Zak grinned and left.

The noble watched the bravo climb the faint, rough trail out of the Clawrift. _Strange, that there should be so much opportunity and strength afforded by something so outwardly flimsy as loyalty. _Jarlaxle's mind tripped over the question he found wandering through it._ What do I want to do with mine?_

After thinking on it for a while, Jarlaxle scooped up his deck of cards and left to do the double duty of fleecing some gamblers and keeping an eye out for one of their people.

* * *

Zak moved quietly along the rooftops in the Braeryn. _Curious that no one ever seems to look up or consider a tail high up_, he mused.

It had not taken long for him to find the female drow that his informants had told him about. The ease with which he tailed her made the young elf even more wary. He ran through the assessment list his mother had taught him to bury the edge of nervousness. _Tall, carrying a hand and a half sword. Has to be on the strong side to do so. Wearing mail underneath that tunic from the drape of it. Not swaggering, but graceful, measured. _

_Like the way Mother moved, actually..._ Zak squelched that thought before it progressed too far. _There are no drow like Mother was. Not even where she came from._

He watched the female amble into a plain inn nearer to Eastmyr. _Excellent, I've a set of eyes and ears there. It'll be easy enough to ask the boy to get a look at her and report back to me_. He smiled grimly. _Gret is terrible at spying directly. If she's sharp at all, she'll notice and follow him to his standard drop point_.

Zak knew Gret's habits extremely well. The orc boy checked his drop spot every cycle in the middle of his shift. The drow climbed down to street level and jotted instructions down on the small copybook hidden under a pile of rocks a few alleys from the inn.

The bravo found a suitable lurking spot where he could watch some of the surrounding area. Unfortunately, it was right next to a rooftop bat rookery. Trying to breathe around the thick pungent smell of the guano, Zak settled himself to wait and winced at the squelching sound under his boots. _I'll probably have to burn my clothes to get the reek out of them._

He did not have to wait long. Gret, skinny and disheveled, walked into the alley and rummaged around with the stones covering the copybook. Zak looked around in case the informant had acquired a tail. _Nothing... nothing... wait a minute. A few buildings over in the alley... _Keeping low, Zak shifted to get a better look at the skulker. He chuckled softly. _Well my life has been made easier. So nice of my quarry to come to me._

Moving as quietly as possible, Zak climbed into one of the adjacent back alleys and waited for Gret to leave. I_f she continues the way she has been, she's probably going to check the drop after Gret goes back to his chores._ He suppressed a sigh. _I'll have to keep his lookout duties to daily activity then. He's far too regular for anything else_.

The orc boy left and sure enough, the female drow crept in and started looking around for the hidden copybook. _Now to get her out of direct view... _Zak slid down the alley wall, picked up a a few rocks and tossed them into some of the ever present refuse common to the back alleys of the poorer sections of Menzoberranzan. The sudden sound resulted in a soft jingle of chainmail as the female moved to investigate.

She warily walked into the more hidden section of the alley. Zak leaned against the wall and asked blandly, "Looking for something?"

She startled a bit before bestowing a measuring glare at the youth. Her nose wrinkled at the lingering odor of the bat dung on his cloak and boots. "You are the orc's controller?" she asked, her lilting voice made harder by distaste.

He shrugged, "Maybe. Depends on what you want to talk to them about."

The female again gave him an appraising look before answering, "I'm looking for Saerriin Mithias."

Zak felt his gut clench and he fought to keep the feeling off of his face. He shifted against the wall to cover his unease. "I suppose you'd be willing to pay well for information?"

Moving slowly, she produced a small clinking pouch from a pocket."Provided such information results in a meeting."

He considered his options. _I need to get her somewhere more isolated and then see what I can get out of her. _"I can take you to her. Try to keep up." With that he turned and started running through the back alleys.

He heard the female behind him as he lead her in a serpentine path towards one of the worst parts of the Braeryn. He headed into a recently hunted section of the hovels, so marked by the scorch marks and obscene graffiti in elven script. Some of the rough stone dwellings were little more than rubble in some places. _It'll be a while before anyone comes squatting here. Too many fear for angry spirits sleeping in the crevices_.

Still keeping up a swift pace, Zak lead the female closer to the cavern wall and a pile of rubble. He indicated the cave in. "If you want to talk to Saerriin, she's under there."

"You could have said something before bringing me here." The female glared at him angrily.

"You wouldn't have believed me." Zak shrugged and consciously loosened his arms in readiness._ At least here there won't be any immediate witnesses if things get really bad._

"The Lolthites found her then?" the female asked. "You knew her well?"

The youth offered up another noncommittal shrug and inwardly raged. _If she's from Mother's old home, then she's an idiot of the first order, not saying 'priestess.' No one from here would make that mistake._

Zak realized that something in his expression must have given him away when the female continued, "I suppose it fits with her heretical ideas, having a boy as her second. My temple wishes to take over her network. I am Irenji and you'll be reporting to me from now on."

As she spoke, Irenji assumed a cocky, self assured stance that reminded the bravo of the few times he'd seen Lolthite priestesses. He glared at her stonily for several long moments. "No."

Irenji blinked at him blankly. "Don't you want to convince others to..."

"No, I don't," Zak growled. "Particularly not with someone who isn't sharp enough to know to keep her mouth shut."

"But... wasn't Saerriin a missionary..." The female tried again.

_If I stay here too long, she is going to bring the Lolthites down on us both._ The bravo turned to leave. _Better to disappear now._ "Take my advice and go back where you came from. You aren't needed or wanted here."

"You underestimate the training of the sisterhood for such matters, boy," She called back at Zak. He kept walking and she continued angrily, "I'll bet you're the one who ratted her out."

The youth stopped and it took a great deal of effort not to turn back. _If I stay here and beat the moonlight loving dung out of her, it puts me and mine at more risk than it's worth_. He started striding away again.

He heard her moving up behind him, light steps upon the stone. "If you think that I'd be unwilling to risk everything for the Lady's message..."

Zak turned and glared coldly at Irenji. "Get out of my territory."

"Males can't carry my Lady's message," She hissed and shifted subtly into a fighting stance.

"It's about presenting an alternative and undermining," The bravo grated and watched her closely. _If she decides to fight, she'll go for the sword... too blunt to do otherwise. Clangs will attract attention. I will not let her draw._ "You will be looking in the wrong place for rebellious souls because you gain more prestige for the females you draw in. You aren't much different than the dogma here already from where I stand."

"You little..." Irenji's hand flashed towards her blade.

Zak moved. He caught hold of the female's wrist with one hand as her fingers wrapped around the blade and shoved it back towards the hilt. He slammed an open palm into the female's throat. At the same time, the youth kicked her legs out from under her. The female slammed into the ground and lay in the rubble gasping for breath.

Taking a few deep breaths himself, Zak shook his head in exasperation. "Leave and live or stay and get strung up. You won't get help from me either way."

With that, he relieved Irenji of her coin purse and began the serpentine route back to the more populated areas of the Braeryn. The bravo turned his mind towards more fruitful pursuits. _Now... Where should I send Pneiss to that will be most beneficial for everyone?_

* * *

Jarlaxle had been doing pretty well at the card table in the Silken Draught for the last few hours. _Wonder where Zak went to... It's been a while since he left the lair and he hasn't walked in... _The noble let the thought trail away as he noticed the youth coming down the stairs and into the main taproom. _He must have come in through a window or something._

Zak noticed Jarlaxle at the table and continued out the door with a small nod in the noble's direction and another one for the old half-orc barkeep. Jarlaxle played a few more hands before leaving as well. After taking a circuitous route back to their little hideaway, he found Zak sitting on the creaky couch with his hands steepled in front of him, brows furrowed in thought. "Send off your girl?" Jarlaxle said lightly.

The lame joke cracked through Zaknafein's serious mien and the bravo gave a little chuckle, "She's headed for Skullport, with enough silver to set up a small trading business if she's smart about it."

"This calls for a celebration then!" Jarlaxle grinned and hunted through a stack of crates along one wall for a bottle of brandy. After finding the bottle of libations, the noble took a swig and handed the bottle to Zak.

The youth sipped at the liquor thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about stepping up the operation. Expanding the network some. Getting some people watching the nobles."

Jarlaxle started a little in surprise. _It isn't like him to bounce ideas off of me... _"You aren't usually this forthcoming about anything, you know."

"Like I said, I've been thinking," Zak smirked. "And I've come to the conclusion that I need a partner."

"Me?" The noble's jaw dropped, but he felt something akin to weight lifting off his shoulders.

"Why not?" The bravo chuckled. "I need something to look forwards to. So do you. Neither of us really have anything to lose and we need something to gain."

"I would ask for Dantrag's head on a platter, but that doesn't seem particularly practical at the moment," Jarlaxle laughed.

Zak's smile shifted into something more feral. "It would just take longer and have more planning involved. And I'd want it worked so that we could both benefit from such an event."

The noble found himself nodding in agreement and his mind started to trundle down that chain of logic. "Mutual benefit... That could get our eyes and ears into the noble houses, particularly if we had the funds to grease the appropriate palms."

"And probably more than just the two of us to defend such hypothetical wealth..." The bravo added with a semi serious grin. "Need to do more thinking on specifics of it though."

"Yes we do, " Jarlaxle agreed heartily. "Partners?"

Zak passed the brandy back. "Partners."

* * *

Author's note: The plot bunny came back and it started biting me.


End file.
